


Tact

by bondboy68



Category: Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Female Bond, Female Q, femme slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:19:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bondboy68/pseuds/bondboy68
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q thinks 007 can't use tact. 007 wonders why Q runs away every time she kisses her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tact

**Author's Note:**

> First femmeslash. Not beta'd, sorry. Feel free to point out mistakes. I might do more with female Bond and Q because I think they're pretty cute.

The message popped up on Q’s computer mid-way through her bi-monthly morning check of the network security. She smirked to herself as she opened it. It had taken a small fight but she knew she’d get them off running those paper files all over the damn building. The smile quickly slid off her face as she read the briefing. 

“Chelsea, please finish going over the security? Write down anything odd you see and I’ll look at it later.” Chelsea nodded and they switched place, Q standing from her chair. She hurried to the armory, opening it with thumb print, voice recognition, passcode, and voice recognition again. As she scanned the lines of shiny silver cases her phone went off. “Q.”

“Change of plans.” It was Tanner on the other line. “003 is not cleared for the field, she’s still recovering with a broken leg. We’re sending in 007.” 

Q stopped, her hand on one of the cases. “Are you serious?”

“Is there a problem with 007?”

“Yes! James Bond is a complete brute, you can not expect her to handle this situation delicately. All she knows how to do is shoot people, blow up priceless buildings, and break and/or loose my equipment. Isn’t there anybody else?”

“I think you’d be surprised, Q. 007 is able to use tact.”

“I doubt that,” the Quartermaster mumbled and she moved down the line and grabbed a different case.

“007 will be down to collect in a few.” Tanner hung up and Q stuffed the phone back in her trouser pocket. 007 with tact. That’s something she’d pay to see. When she came out of the armory Bond was waiting, leaning against her desk wearing a smirk and a finally cut grey suit. 

“Q,” she purred. “What have you got for me today?” Q set down the cases on her desk. 

“007. I would like to beg you--”

“Really, Q? At the office?”

Q shot the woman a glare as she continued. “Beg you to please remember that this is a child you will be dealing with. Try not to completely traumatize her.” Q opened up the first case. 

“Oh ye of little faith.” 

“Here’s your gun.” Q pushed the weapon towards Bond. “Grappling hook.” She moved the cases to the floor as she handed Bond the weapons. 

“What is this?” Bond picked up a small box and opened it. “Oh, Q, you shouldn’t have. What will your parents say?” Q snatched the box back. 

“This ring contains a very potent sedative, merely twist like so and pour into drink.” She held out the ring to Bond, then closed her fist around it and pulled it back as the woman reached it. “Bond. I’m being serious. Please do all that you can to make this a quiet, peaceful mission. The important thing here is getting that little girl. The less blood on the floor, the better, in my opinion.” She finally handed over the ring. 

“Don’t worry, Q darling. I fully intend on getting this all over with quickly and painlessly and giving the good Prime Minister back his little girl.” 

“Put your earpiece in,” Q sighed, holding out the small radio. Bond did, and damn it she was still smirking. “Good luck, 007,” she grumbled. 

“Don’t be sad, love, I’ll be back before you know it.” Bond leaned forward, her lips grazing Q’s cheek. After nearly a year of working with the agent, Q was very good at controlling the blush that wanted to color her cheeks. She stood still and watched Bond exit the department before leaning on her desk and letting out a loud sigh. 

“M’am,” Q jumped, forgetting that Chelsea was still there. “Why are you so mean to Agent 007? I thought you two were--”

“Do not finish that sentence, Chelsea. Bond and I’s relationship is and has always been completely professional.” The girl nodded but didn’t look convinced. 

“It’s just...well you seem awfully hard on her.” 

“She can take it. Why don’t you go back to your station, I’ll finish up here.” 

\----

Bond waited in the MI6 hanger, strapping her gadgets securely under her coat. She smiled at the ring on her finger. Beautiful and dangerous. As much as Q tried to deny any resemblance between them, they did have very similar tastes. The helicopter arrived and she climbed it. She pressed her radio to activate it. 

“Taking off. Should reach target at 0900 hours.”

“Thank you, 007.” 

“Since we’ve got some time, care to offer some in-flight entertainment?” Bond could almost hear Q’s eye roll.

“I’ll pass, thank you. Call me when you land, Bond.” The mic went quiet and Bond internally pouted. It had been nearly a year of them dancing around each other. Bond had abandoned smoother tactics for blatant flirting long ago. It’s not that she made a habit of chasing around people who didn’t want her, and she wasn’t being overconfident when she said that she knew Q wanted her. They’d had their brief moments. 

Bond relaxed, nothing to do now but wait for the journey to be over and contemplate the Quartermaster who was driving her crazy. It had started a year ago. A very difficult mission and Bond’s cover had been compromised. She’d been forced to go dark, off the map, to protect the mission and herself. She hadn’t been able to resurface for two weeks in which time she’d had to sneak her own way into the country. She’d gone straight to MI6; limping, bloody, dirty, and exhausted. The only person she found at the dark office at such an odd hour was Q, sitting quietly at her desk. The woman had jumped to her feet with a gasp, knocking over her mug of tea. Before Bond could say anything, Q had bounded around the room and thrown her arms around the agent. 

Bond had wrapped her arms around Q, felt how the other woman was shaking like a leaf, so relieved that she hadn’t lost the agent, that Bond was still alive. Bond had never seen anybody so happy to have her back. When Q pulled away, there were tears on her cheeks, her eyes wet behind her glasses. 

“It’s alright,” Bond told her quietly, sliding her fingers through Q’s long, curly hair, down for once instead of in it’s customary ponytail. “I’m alright.” The kiss had been short and sweet, before Q pushed away, blushing. She pushed Bond toward medical and refused to talk about it again. It left Bond feeling very confused, but it was nothing compared to how she felt at their next compromising encounter. 

The MI6 Christmas party was a rare time for everybody to let go and get drunk. Q Branch not excepted, as Bond learned when she walked in and saw several of the SIS’s geekier agents acting as the unexpected life of the party. She was getting herself a drink when she spotted Q, sitting on a table in a skirt (a rare occasion), laughing. Her hair was down, her glasses slightly crooked, her face flushed. Bond stopped and stared, wondering why the site was one of the hottest things she’d ever seen. She put on a sly smile and walked over to the woman. 

“007!” Q greeted enthusiastically. Bond slid up next to her. 

“Q. Love the outfit.” 

Q giggled. “I decided to dress up.”

“I can see that,” Bond purred, leaning closer. Q’s flush deepened. 

“Very hot in here isn’t it?” 

“Mmmm.”

“I think I could use some air.”

“I’ll escort you.” It was like they were suddenly in their own world, neither woman looking at or listening to the party around them. 

“Alright,” Q replied breathlessly after a moment. Bond offered her arm and Q took it, leaning on her as she slid off the table. 

They ended up on the roof, Q sitting on the railing with Bond’s arms wrapped around her waist, keeping her from falling backwards. That’s when Bond learned that Q makes the most amazing noises when her neck is nibbled, and she kisses like the world is about to end. Bond pressed closer, standing between Q’s leg and causing her skirt to hike up further. 

“007. 007,” Q was pushing her away and Bond wanted to growl in frustration. “I think I should go back inside now.” Bond looked behind her at the door, propped open with a brick so they wouldn’t be locked on the roof. 

“You really want to go back to the party now?” she purred, leaning toward Q. The girl bit her lip, already slightly swollen. She surged forward and Bond moaned as their tongues met. There was another few minutes of blissful kissing and touching before Q pushed away again. 

“I should really go.” 

Bond had let her go that time, even though it nearly made her hate herself. Several strained months followed that, with Q refusing to discuss it and Bond only ever getting a few minutes at a time to try and make her. 

The most recent development happened a month prior to Bond’s mission to rescue the Prime Minister’s kidnapped daughter. Bond had gotten a call at three in the morning that Q had been taken. When she arrived at MI6 it was a flurry of activity; the threat of their Quartermaster being compromised was very, very bad for the SIS. Bond had charged into M’s office and demanded to be put on the case to go after the abductors. M had argued that he couldn’t send Bond anywhere until they had enough intel. In retrospect, Bond might admit she’d been a bit...crazed. After yelling back and forth for a while they were interrupted by Moneypenny. 

“Q’s back. She’s fine.”

“What are you talking about?”

Moneypenny smirked at the agent. “Seems we all underestimated our Quartermaster. She handled everything herself.”

Bond charged out, followed by M, and probably Moneypenny as well though she never turned to look. Sure enough, Q was standing in the middle of Q Branch orchestrating the clean up. She had files pulled on all the abductors, was already giving our orders so that she could move into a safe house until her own flat could be moved, and looked perfectly fine save for a small cut on her cheek. Bond grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the empty back hallway. 

“007! What are you doing?! I need to--”

“This’ll only take a moment,” the agent growled. She pushed Q into a wall and kissed her hard. At first the other woman stiffened but she quickly melted against Bond. When they were both breathless, Bond pulled away. She cupped Q’s cheek, thumb stroking the minor cut. “If they’d hurt you at all....if I’d gotten there before you’d escaped...I would have killed them all.”

Q’s eyes were wide but there was no fear there. “I know.” 

Bond abruptly pulled away and disappeared down the hall. 

“007 we are approaching the drop-off zone.” Bond looked up, startled out of her memories. She nodded and turned on her com. 

“Q we’re here.”

“Thank you, 007.”

\----

Q had to admit, Bond actually could use tact. She was dead silent after she got into the oceanside abandoned castle (so extravagant for terrorists). Q had listened to her steady breathing as she’d scaled the cliff, wishing she had video feed as well. 

“Any chance of getting me a layout,” the agent whispered after she’d gotten in. 

“We have one but I’m afraid it won’t be the most accurate. It was done almost two decades ago and since then there has been a lot of structural damage. Some passages will be completely blocked. 

“Well we’ll have to do some improvisation, then.” The two worked together to get Bond through the castle. When a door wouldn’t open or a hallway ended due to a ceiling cave in, Q would direct her another way, both of them trying to guess where the kidnapped little girl would be held. They’d been at it for fifteen minutes (the place was huge) when Bond announced she could hear voices. 

“Careful, 007.” Q hated moments like these when she could only sit and wait. No server to hack or security cameras to help her understand the noises coming through Bond’s earpiece. Right now she could hear shuffling, the distant voices Bond had mentioned, and the agents soft breathing. Q bit her lip, she wanted to ask for more information on Bond’s position and plan, but talking might compromise her. It was the moment of truth, when she had to trust the agent to do her job. And she did. Despite her protests and complaints and glares, Q absolutely trusted Bond. A painful thirty minutes of radio silence passed in which Q did not move from her desk. She was still, staring at the monitors in front of her. One had a little blinking dot on a map that marked Bond’s position and one had the layout of the castle. At some point somebody came and refilled her tea. 

Q stiffened as the noise changed. There were footsteps, several sets, growing louder and then quieter again. Then a rustle as Bond moved. 

“Sally,” Bond whispered. “My name is James. I’m here to take you home.” Q could help but smile and took a long sip of tea. “Q what is the easiest way out of here?” 

\---

Bond heard Q clear her throat, following by the sound of quick typing. Now for the hard part. “North door, it leads to a stair.” 

Bond looked around. “There is no other door in here, Q.”

“Well then it must be hidden.” 

Bond sighed and smiled at the little girl in her arms. “Quartermasters. So difficult. Do you know where it is?”

“Papa’s study has a bookshelf that comes out.” Her voice was small and scared, her hands curled into Bond’s coat with a tight grip. 

“Well let’s try that.” She carried Sally to the wall and ran her free hand around the top of the shelves. Sure enough one section on the North wall looked a bit off. She found a lever and pulled, and the section swung out. Past it was a spiral stair going down. 

“Alright go down the stair, all the way.”

“It’s dark...” Sally clung to her tighter. 

“I know, Sally, but that’s alright. I’ve got you.” 

“Bond if you push the top button on your watch the screen will illuminate. Not extremely bright but enough to see a few feet.” Bond adjusted the little girl to try it. She looked at Sally and took of the watch. 

“Hold onto this for me? Point it just like that, yeah. Not so dark, right?” They began their decent. The air was stale and as they began to get underground, it ranked. “Q, where does this lead.” 

“A hidden passage. It’s snug between the dungeon and sewer system.”

“That explains the smell...” 

“Keep going and let’s hope nothing is caved in.” Bond didn’t like the idea of that but held Sally tighter as they reached the bottom and the passage became very narrow. She had to turn her body and carry Sally on her hip to squeeze through, the little girl still holding the watch out in front of them. Bond tried not to think about the crunch and squish under her feet. At least they reached a heavy door. Bond had to put the girl down to throw her body against it. 

“The door is stuck.”

“Put your back into it.”

“Don’t start that again.” Bond gave a might shove and the door finally inched open. Once she’s forced it open enough to slip out she went first then took Sally’s hand and encouraged her to follow. The sky above was fully of dark, heavy clouds. “Q, where’s the pick-up?” 

“I’ve alerted them to your position but I would recommend getting as far away from the castle as possible.” 

“Why is that?”

“I was thinking about blowing it up.”

“And here you were chastising me earlier for unnecessary use of weaponry.” 

“Well according to M, the Prime Minister isn’t actually interested in us taking the kidnappers alive.” 

Bond picked up Sally and gave her a smile. “Fine by me.” Sally rested her head on Bond’s shoulder, hands once again wrapping into her coat. She carried the girl quickly away, walking until she heard a helicopter. It touched down long enough for Bond to jump on. She strapped Sally in carefully to a seat. “You’ll be home soon enough.” As they flew away, Bond heard an explosion and smiled. 

In the security of MI6, Bond carried Sally and deposited her safely into her father’s arms. Of course she was offered ridiculous awards. Bond polity refused. After a quick debriefing she went down to Q Branch to drop off her gadgets. 

“Oh, I’ll take those, Ms. Bond.” The agent frowned at the underling. 

“Where’s Q?”

“She went home already.” Q never left early. Bond wondered what that was about. Maybe Q was sick? She thought about it as she drove herself home. She unlocked her door and stiffened as soon as she opened it. The kitchen light was on. And she specifically remembered it being off when she left. The agent silently closed the door and began to reach for the nearest weapon, a bowie knife secured under the table in the hall. A silhouette stepped out. 

“Welcome home, 007.” Bond relaxed. 

“Q. Did you break into my flat?” Q flipped on a light. She was holding a glass of scotch on the rocks, hair down, cardigan off, smiling at the agent. 

“It was hardly difficult.” Q stepped forward and pressed the glass into Bond’s hand. “I thought maybe you deserved a relaxing evening for a job well done.” 

A smile curved over Bond’s lips. Her free hand moved to rest on Q’s waist. “What’s changed?” Bond wasn’t dim. After a year of chasing Q, something had to be different to have the other woman literally walking right into her. Q wrapped her arms around Bond’s neck. 

“You used tact. And maybe you’re not a brutish as I first thought. And...” The woman sighed and shrugged. “I guess maybe I’m tired of avoiding something that obviously makes me happy.”

Bond ginned. “Obviously?”

“Oh, half the office thinks we’re shagging there’s really no point it avoiding it now.” 

Bond rolled her eyes and laughed, then leaned forward to capture the other woman’s lips with her own. This time neither of them pulled away for a long time.


End file.
